The sun had vanished behind the jagged peaks of the Dragontooth Mountains, leaving the "Whispering Forest" bathed in a suffocating twilight.
Elian didn't enter the forest immediately. He stood at the tree line, watching the other players form parties.
Most were loud, confident, and stupid. They shouted for healers and tanks, flashing their starter weapons like trophies.
Elian's eyes drifted to a group of three men standing near a large oak tree. They weren't looking for party members. They were looking for victims.
Vargas.
The name tasted like bile in Elian's throat.
Vargas was a Level 4 Warrior—high for this stage of the game. Beside him stood a skinny Rogue named Rat and a pompous Mage named Jace.
In the first timeline, Elian had met them on Day 2. They had "invited" him to their party. For three months, they treated him like a slave. He carried their bags. He cooked their food. When a trap triggered, they threw him in front of it to tank the damage. When they finally found a Rare item, they killed him to keep it for themselves.
Elian's grip on his black sword tightened until his knuckles turned white. The rage in his chest wasn't a hot fire; it was a cold, expanding block of ice.
I could kill them right now, Elian thought. With the Ring of Swiftness, I could slit Vargas's throat before he draws his sword.
He shook his head.
No. PKing (Player Killing) in a Safe Zone gives me a 'Murderer' status. The guards would hunt me. I need to be smarter.
He needed an accident.
Elian took a deep breath. He relaxed his shoulders. He widened his eyes to look fearful. He hunched his posture to look smaller.
He put on the mask of the "Weakling."
He walked purposefully past them, dragging his heavy black sword through the dirt so it made a loud, annoying scraping sound.
Scrape. Scrape.
Vargas turned his head. His eyes landed on the lone, scrawny player struggling with a weapon clearly too big for him.
"Oi! You there!" Vargas shouted.
Elian froze. He turned around slowly, trembling slightly. "M-me? Sir?"
Vargas grinned. It was a shark's grin. He nudged Jace. "Look at this lost puppy. Hey, kid. That sword looks expensive. Where'd you steal it?"
"I... I didn't steal it!" Elian stammered, clutching the hilt. "I b-bought it! From the blacksmith!
I'm... I'm going to hunt wolves!"
The three men burst out laughing.
"You? Hunt wolves?" Rat cackled. "You can barely lift that scrap metal. You'll be wolf chow in five minutes."
Vargas stepped forward, looming over Elian. He placed a heavy hand on Elian's shoulder.
"Tell you what, kid. We're nice guys. We can't let a newbie die out there. Why don't you come with us?"
Elian's eyes lit up with fake hope. "R-really?
You'd let me join a high-level party?"
"Sure," Vargas said, winking at his friends. "But we're full on damage dealers. We need a... logistics manager. You carry the torches. You carry the extra potions. And if we find loot, you carry that too. Deal?"
Logistics manager. That's what they called me last time before they broke my legs, Elian thought.
"Oh, thank you!" Elian bowed rapidly, looking like a pathetic eager-to-please servant. "I promise I won't slow you down! I'm Elian!"
"Yeah, whatever," Vargas muttered, already turning away. "Grab this torch. And don't lag behind."
Elian took the heavy torch. As he followed them into the dark forest, the terrified expression on his face vanished.
In the shadows of the flickering torchlight, Elian smiled. It was a smile devoid of any warmth.
Lead on, Vargas. I know exactly where we're going.
They walked for twenty minutes. The forest grew denser. The sounds of crickets died out, replaced by an eerie silence.
Vargas and his crew were loud. They trampled through bushes, scaring away any potential prey.
"This is boring," Jace complained, twirling his staff. "Where are the wolves? The guide said this was a spawning ground."
"Maybe someone cleared it already," Rat spat.
"Um... excuse me, sirs?" Elian piped up from the back.
Vargas stopped and glared. "What?"
"I... I heard a rumor," Elian whispered, looking around nervously. "My friend... he said the Alpha Wolves spawn in the 'Hollow Ravine' tonight. He said there's a treasure chest there too."
"Treasure chest?" Rat's ears perked up. "You sure, kid?"
"I think so," Elian said innocently. "But he said it's dangerous. Maybe we shouldn't go..."
"Shut up," Vargas snapped. "If there's a chest, we're taking it. Lead the way, mule."
Elian bowed. "Y-yes, sir."
He led them off the main path. He took them through a thicket of thorns that tore at their clothes, down a steep, muddy slope, and into a narrow box canyon.
The ravine was a dead end. High rock walls surrounded them on three sides. The air here smelled muskier. Pungent. Like wet fur and old blood.
"It smells like crap down here," Jace said, covering his nose. "Where's the chest?"
Elian stopped walking. He stood in the center of the ravine.
"It should be right here," Elian said, his voice dropping the stutter.
"Well, I don't see it," Vargas growled, stepping toward him. "If you wasted our time, kid, I'm going to take that sword of yours and shove it—"
Snap.
A twig broke. Not under their feet. But from the darkness above the canyon walls.
A low, vibrating growl echoed through the ravine. It didn't come from one direction. It came from everywhere.
Vargas froze. "What was that?"
Elian didn't answer. He calmly dropped the torch into the mud.
The light flickered and died. Pitch blackness swallowed them.
"Hey! You idiot! Pick it up!" Vargas screamed.
Elian closed his eyes. He didn't need light. He had Spatial Awareness.
Three seconds, Elian counted.
High above on the ridges, six pairs of glowing red eyes opened in the dark.
[Monster Encounter: Alpha Wolf (Level 8)]
[Monster Encounter: Dire Wolf Pack (Level 5) x5]
This wasn't a normal spawn point. This was a "Death Trap"—a zone where the aggro range was instant. Elian had led them into the dinner bowl.
"Something's here!" Jace shrieked, lighting a small flame in his hand.
The magical light revealed a massive, grey-furred beast leaping from the rock wall directly at them.
"Contact!" Vargas roared, raising his shield.
Elian moved.
He didn't draw his sword to help. He activated the Ring of Swiftness.
While Vargas and his party were distracted by the Alpha Wolf crashing into their front line, Elian silently backstepped into the deepest shadow of the ravine wall. He coated himself in mud to mask his scent—a trick he learned in year ten.
The wolves ignored the silent, scentless shadow in the corner. They focused on the loud, bright, screaming meat in the center.
"Help us, you useless mule! Hit it!" Vargas screamed, struggling to hold back the Alpha's snapping jaws.
Elian watched from the dark. He leaned against the cold rock, arms crossed.
"Sorry, Vargas," Elian whispered, his voice too low for them to hear over the screams. "I'm just the logistics manager. I don't do combat."
A Dire Wolf flanked Jace, the mage, and tore into his unarmored leg. Jace's scream was bloodcurdling.
"My leg! MY LEG!"
Rat tried to run, but two more wolves cut off the exit.
It was a slaughter. A beautiful, chaotic masterpiece painted in red.
Elian watched with cold, dead eyes. He felt... satisfaction.
This is what you are, he thought. Just XP for the wolves.
He waited. He would let the wolves finish the job. And when the beasts were tired and injured from the fight...
Elian's hand slowly reached for the hilt of his black sword.
Then I'll take the XP from everyone.